A Rickmaniac Holiday
by dot.dot.dot.deranged
Summary: The Rickmaniacs decide to take a holiday to try and get over their obsession. No such luck. As Wil becomes an accident prone ditz, Megan and The Original Rickmaniac try and save Gumlick from Mr Flibble's evil paws. Extreme madness, and blatant Mary-Sues!
1. Chapter One, in which the Rickmaniacs de...

This story starts with the assumption that you know who *He* is. If you don't, shame on you. Where have you been the past fifty-six years? :Mutters incoherently:  
  
  
  
Once upon a time in a land far, far away, Gumlick, Rickmaniac, Megan, and Wil all decided to go on holiday to Iceland. They all sat it Rickmaniac's bedroom finishing off their packing when suddenly Wil looked up from under the bed. She had been looking for a stray sock when she had the misfortune to bump her head, and had been lying unconscious under the piece of bedroom furniture for over three months.  
  
"When are we leaving?" she asked obtrusively, startling Megan and Gumlick, who hadn't realized she'd gone.  
  
"Get out from under the bed, you silly twit. We're leaving now, and we are going to Iceland," Rickmaniac ordered. Wil looked frankly flaccid.  
  
"Why Iceland? *He's* not there," Megan protested.  
  
"We need a break from *him*," decided Gumlick, packing in a four-foot-by- six-foot poster of the said Alan Rickman, a mug and a t-shirt emblazoned with pictures of her idol, and a tiny bottle containing nothing in particular which she swore was a strand of his hair.  
  
"Capital 'H', you fool!" Megan reprimanded, and was regarded with an icy stare. "We'd better leave now or we won't make the check in time."  
  
"I haven't packed!" Wil complained loudly.  
  
"Here," Rickmaniac tossed her a handbag which was by her feet. Wil frantically grabbed the nearest three items, which happened to be knickers, her passport and her ticket, and shoved them in the bag. She then rolled out from under the bed and dashed after the retreating figures of Gumlick, Megan and Rickmaniac.  
  
A forthrightly ridiculous car journey ensued, in which they changed taxis eight times and hit six others for insulting their 'Give Me Alan Rickman or Give Me Death', 'I Hate Luvvies (Alan Rickman Is Definitely Not One)' ' Heaven is not a Halfpipe - It Is Alan Rickman Coated In Chocolate' and 'Kiss Me, I'm a Rickmaniac' T-Shirts. After much fighting in the back seat they finally got to the right terminal and stood at the end of the queue for the check-in desks.  
  
"'MYT-9976' Flight to Gerona," Gumlick said, reading the ticket. There was an inconspicuous silence in which Wil went extremely pale.  
  
"What is wrong with you, girl?" Megan suddenly asked, seeing Wil's face go the same colour as fusty custard.  
  
"Gerona is in SPAIN, not ICELAND, you fools!" she exclaimed, jumping up and down and almost knocking over the avid map-reading backpacker and accompanying trolley behind her. "Which idiot booked the bloody tickets?"  
  
"You did," Gumlick, Rickmaniac and Megan said in unison. Wil looked exasperated until they reached the check in desk, where she glared unceremoniously at anyone who decided to look at her. The Rickmaniacs handed in their luggage - which thankfully wasn't much - and proceeded to the departure lounge where they went to the arcade to see if anyone had invented a Galaxy Quest game yet.  
  
"I don't actually mind going to Spain," Rickmaniac mused, staring into space. (Or the rather geriatric Space Invaders game that clung to the wall like mold which a group of small German children were clustered around) "How do you know about Gerona anyway?"  
  
"I went there once with my family. It's quite near Barcelona," Wil said, absent mindedly kicking the game machine next to her, which just happened to have a picture of Kevin Costner on it.  
  
"I like the sound of Barcelona," Rickmaniac decided, immediately launching into 'Barcelona' by Queen and Monserrat Caballe with Gumlick and Megan. Wil wandered off unnoticeably, hoping no-one would assume she was with the singing trio, which now had a rather large crowd gathered around them. However, the wandering off backfired and Gumlick, Rickmaniac and Megan made $6 that day and now currently launch into song when requested, much to the delight of onlookers.  
  
The Gate number was soon announced and the Rickmaniacs hurried to the room, rushing to be the first. On finding the right door, they sank into the not- so-comfy seats and waited for their seats to be called. Suddenly, Megan jumped three foot off her chair and landed on the floor.  
  
"What was that for?" Gumlick asked incredulously. "The woman at the check in desk - she looks like Alan Rickman!" she squeaked. The other three looked in the direction she was frantically pointing at, where a blond-haired woman stood leaning against the desk. She did look surprisingly like the Rick-meister, with a long, aquiline nose, narrow, accusing eyes and a long face. "My God," Wil said, aghast.  
  
"It's Alan Rickman in disguise!" Rickmaniac proclaimed. There was a confused silence, in which the Rickmaniacs sat in thought.  
  
"D'you think it is him? I mean, he can't exactly travel overseas, even in VIP class without someone recognizing him and wanting to snog him," Megan mused. "Jesus, Alan in drag.." Gumlick muttered, looking imperturbably at Wil as she got up off the seat and addressed the woman. Rickmaniac and Megan soon followed their friend, and Gumlick felt obliged to go with them.  
  
"Excuse me, I don't meant to be rude, but are you a man?" Wil asked brusquely. Rickmaniac's and Gumlick's eyes widened at her frankness. "I beg your pardon?" the woman asked.  
  
"Well, me and my friends here just noticed you had an uncanny resemblance to the actor Alan Rickman," Wil continued. The woman was staring at her assailant. "Just what, exactly, are you saying?" She asked, but Wil wasn't listening. She was watching an old woman walking across the room.  
  
"Good God, it's *Him* !" She muttered, walking off to accost the pensioner. The blonde-woman's attention now turned to the remaining Rickmaniacs.  
  
"Uh...us? No, we don't know her, nothing to do with her," Rickmaniac assured the stranger, grabbing Wil as she chased after the now galloping pensioner and shoving her through the gate door.  
  
"Jesus Christ, three months and six hours without Alan Rickman and she's seeing him everywhere!" Gumlick groaned, handing all four tickets to be befuddled air hostess at the door. Wil was unceremoniously thrown into the window seat to prevent further attacks on strangers, and started reading through the in-flight magazine.  
  
"On behalf of British Airways we would like to welcome you abroad this flight to Gerona. We hope your time on this plane is pleasant, and if there is any way we can further enhance your travel, please let us know. Duty free, along with details of in-flight entertainment can be found in the pocket in front of you. There is currently a safety demonstration, please watch it even if you are a regular flier." The tannoy said.  
  
Suddenly, there was a loud, groaning, squeaky noise from Wil and she threw the in-flight magazine into the air in frustration. An awkward silence ensued until Megan picked up the abandoned and maltreated magazine.  
  
"Blow Dry me down," she exclaimed. "I'm going to complain to the management!" She stood up, unsuccessfully, because she had neglected to remember she had put her seatbelt on. She snapped it off in frustration and tried to stand up again, but forgot about the low ceiling and promptly knocked herself out. Gumlick took hold of the magazine, which had now turned into a sort of feeble Olympic baton.  
  
"Excuse me," she yelled loudly, interrupting the demonstration. "There is a gross overlook in this magazine. I don't know if we can start the flight without it!"  
  
The nearest air-hostess looked stuffily at the four Rickmaniacs and took the magazine out of Gumlick's flailing hands.  
  
"What?"  
  
"There is no Alan Rickman in it anywhere. Not a speck, smidgeon, fleck, fragment, spot, dot, scrap or iota of *Him* to sustain the normal Rickmaniac. It's simply not amenable to our demands!"  
  
"I'm sorry, madam, we can't stop the flight for that. We have to make the time slot," the hostess apologized.  
  
"Not even the 'In Demand' video?" Rickmaniac questioned meekly.  
  
"Afraid not." The hostess waited for the news to settle in, maybe even an answer, but all four Rickmaniacs unexpectedly started shuddering and foaming at the mouth. The hostess was frightened and managed to fall backwards on to the lap of an extremely fat, greasy businessman who leered at her. Fortunately, there was a doctor on board who advised them what to do, and hence the Rickmaniac's flight to Spain was one with them wrapped up with industrial strength duck-tape and locked in the hold. Upon arriving in Gerona, they went around the luggage carousel forty-three times before jumping off and getting a confused Japanese tourist to untie them all.  
  
"That is the last time I travel BA!" decided Wil.  
  
  
  
At the resort, the Rickmaniacs all decided to go out for a meal, leaving their baggage in their rooms. There was a nice little restaurant down the road where you could get paella, so Megan and Gumlick shared paella, Rickmaniac bought some Pringles, and Wil got some mashed potato, and they sat outside watching the other tourists.  
  
"I have something to say that may shock and amaze you," Megan said. "The waiter looks exactly like Alan Rickman." Gumlick groaned and went head- first into the paella, and spent the next hour getting bits of spaghetti out of her hair.  
  
"I think we all need to go see a psychiatrist," decided Rickmaniac. "It's more manic obsessive than just plain disturbed."  
  
"Hey look!" Wil yelled suddenly, standing and pointing at the untouched mashed potato. A few people from the nearest tables bent to see, and Megan started screaming. "It looks like Kevin Costner!" exclaimed Gumlick.  
  
"Kill it! Kill it! It's got no dick!" Rickmaniac yelled, being splattered by mash seconds later as Wil took a meat-axe off the wall and executed an excellent blow to the offending plate. There was a silence, and a low whine emerged from all the Rickmaniacs before they fled the scene. 


	2. Chapter Two, in which the Rickmaniacs ar...

It was morning when Gumlick's screeching yanked Wil out of her Rickman- induced slumber. She was waving a copy of 'Hello' about as if it was the national flag of lunacy, and jumping about on the bed so much that Megan was bounced off it and landed with a a yelp on the floor. Wil looked up blearily.  
  
"Wheddafekkya?" she muttered, which is insane-Rickmaniac-early-morning for 'Excuse me but what is the time please?'  
  
"ALAN RICKMAN'S GOT MARRIED!" Gumlick called out, no doubt waking up people in adjoining rooms with her cry. Rickmaniac shot up in bed."HE'S MAAAAAARRRIIIIIIIIEEEEEEDDDD!!!!!"  
  
"WHAT?" Rickmaniac said, her bottom jaw hitting the floor comically, so it sounded more like 'Wherrrrg.'  
  
"Who to? Give me, Give me!" Wil yelled, temporarily forgetting she was in nothing but her nightshirt and jumping out of bed, clawing at Gumlick's ankles. Gumlick looked down with a look that was worthy of Snape and all three Rickmaniacs dropped to their knees.  
  
"Who do you think?"  
  
"HIS DOG!" Megan chirruped from somewhere on the floor. Rickmaniac's eyes widened.  
  
"He has a dog?" the three other Rickmaniacs asked incredulously, looking over at the semi-unconscious Megan, lying face down on the floor. She turned her head to look at them.  
  
"You stupid, stupid, stupid." Gumlick paused, lost. "Stupid person," she finished triumphantly  
  
"So? Who??" Wil asked.  
  
"RIMA!" Gumlick chorused happily, bouncing on the bed. There was silence in the room apart from a water-like, dripping sound, and Megan left the room abruptly.  
  
"I see no difference." a Wil like noise said from the corner of the room.  
  
"GIIIIIVVVVEEEEE MEEEEEEEEEEE!" The Rickmaniacs yelled, jumping on top of Gumlick, who cowered under the bed, magazine in hand.  
  
"NO!"  
  
"YAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHH!" Wil screeched, running around the room so fast she misjudged the wall and flew into it, knocking herself out. The fight paused.  
  
"Oh..bugger," Rickmaniac said lightly. She shrugged, and the fight continued. With Megan's help, she overturned the bed, but to no avail, as Gumlick crawled out just in time, fell over the unconscious Wil, and went headfirst into the cupboard. Thankfully it shut behind her, unthankfully, she was locked in.  
  
"Gumlick," Rickmaniac said in a surprisingly Sheriff-of -Nottingham voice, hovering behind the door. "If you don't come out I'll have to hurt Mr Flibble."  
  
There was a gasp. "No! Not . not Mr Flibble!"  
  
"Yes, Gumlick." Rickmaniac said ominously.  
  
"You wouldn't dare!" she hissed. Rickmaniac raised an eyebrow and looked over at Wil, who looked as if she was trying desperately to recover from an all-night stoning session. She was trying to pull herself upright with the upturned bed, but her eyes were crossed and bloodshot and parts of her anatomy kept flailing about. Nevertheless, she managed to throw the Snape- lookalike teddy at Rickmaniac. She missed dreadfully and it hit the door with a thumpy-squeaky noise.  
  
"Flibble!" Gumlick squeaked.  
  
"Give.me..the.magazine!" Rickmaniac ordered. There was a pause in which Wil slumped to the floor very loudly, and the bed fell on top of her.  
  
"No! Never!"  
  
"Gumlick," Rickmaniac growled. "I'll hurt him!"  
  
"NO!"  
  
"Say goodbye to Mr Flibble, Gumlick. Gooooodbyeeeee..."  
  
"Flibble!"  
  
"Goodbyeeeeee, goodbyeeeee, wipe a dear, baby dear, from your eyeeeee!" Rickmaniac sang, off key.  
  
"ARGH! Anything but you singing!" Gumlick commented from inside the cupboard. Rickmaniac glared.  
  
"I SHALL BE MERCILESS! Megan, bring on the screwdriver!" Rickmaniac yelled. Megan passed her a charming, pink handled one and grinned before sitting back down on the bed that Wil was pinned under. She grunted in pain, but the sound was drowned out by Rickmaniac.  
  
"One more chance, Gumlick. Will you give me the magazine?"  
  
"NEVER!"  
  
"Fine. The bear gets it."  
  
"Nooooooooo!"  
  
"I'm killing him with a screwdriver, Gumlick. It's painful, especially where I'm putting it."  
  
"Let him go!"  
  
"First hole. Looks like it's a deep one. Whoops, I ripped him. Christ, stuffing everywhere. Messy git. Next rip. Rip. Rip, Ripriprip!" she said, her voice getting louder and louder. Gumlick's whine rose to a wail.  
  
"FLIIIIIIBLEEE!" she yelled. The door opened, and when the wail ended, the room was eerily silent.  
  
"Holy." Rickmaniac said.  
  
"Now he is," Gumlick muttered piteously.  
  
There, in the doorway, stood a pyjama-clad and absolutely seething Alan Rickman. 


	3. Chapter Three, in which Wil thinks she's...

"Take it away. Take everything away. Anything she's liable to hit her head on," Megan ordered. "Except the ceiling. Keep that."  
  
"She's alive. I win the bet!" Gumlick chirruped.  
  
"You had to *live*, didn't you?" Rickmaniac accused, throwing herself into the chair so hard a leg fell off and she fell sideways. She stood, trying to regain what dignity she could muster.  
  
"Give me a fiver!" Gumlick said, stamping her foot on the floor. "She lives, I win the bet, give me the money." Rickmaniac paused as if in thought and looked at the other girl. "Bollocks." she declared, stomping out the room.  
  
"Can you remember what happened?" Megan asked.  
  
"I was in a far away castle and Prince Alan came to save me. Oh, and I was naked."  
  
"NAKED?" Gumlick asked.  
  
"I think so." Wil said, scratching her head. "Nope, can't remember a darn thing."  
  
"Iz she avake?" a doctor appeared at the door. "Ve need to czech for concussion."  
  
Gumlick and Megan duly moved out of the way.  
  
"Now, deez is jist a leetle test, okay? Could you pleeez geeve be youra name?" the doctor asked.  
  
"Rameses Niblick the Third, Kerplunk, Kerplonk, Whoops I've Lost My Flibble," she replied fluently. "But you can call me Satan."  
  
"Ah. And your dete of beirth?"  
  
"31st October 5089," she replied. "B.C, that is."  
  
"Your occupation?"  
  
"Full time devil, part time pain-in-the ass," she said. The doctor blinked.  
  
"Um. and your plaz of birth?"  
  
"Hades, darling. Delightful place."  
  
"And how would uzers dezcribe you?" he asked, tapping his pen on his teeth.  
  
Wil sat back in thought. "Unabashedly evil. Darkly intimidating. Iniquitously malevolent."  
  
"I sei. I will be back son with youra resultez," he said, stepping out the door. Megan finally closed her mouth and turned to her.  
  
"What..the...hell..was that all about?" she asked. Wil bit her lip. "I am SAAAAATAN!" she schreeched, jumping up and down on the bed. It was then Rickmaniac charged towards her, baguette club in hand, and knocked her flying out the window.  
  
"SCOOOOOORE!" she yelled triumphantly.  
  
* "Um, yes. Your friend has been locked up. It seems the shock of meeting her idol has unhinged her. Most unfortunate," the hospital executive informed Megan, rustling various stacks of paper on his desk. "I do hope you understand that.er." he looked at the paper. "Rickmaniac. has been put away for her own good."  
  
"Mm." Megan said "How is Wil? I haven't managed to see her."  
  
"She doesn't appear to think she's Beelzebub anymore, and your friend Gumlick is sitting with her." He entwined his fingers and leaned forward. "However, she does have a potentially fatal side-effect of hitting her head so many times, and finally being shot out of a window by a mad woman with a sandwich."  
  
"Really? Is it serious?"  
  
"I'm afraid so. You see, she has psychologically associated pain, death, madness and evil things with all things bread-like. There is a possibility that if you show her anything, toast, bap, bagel, baguette, bun, burger, waffle, chignon, scone, even a sandwich itself, there is a high risk she will return to her disillusioned state and once again believe she is the devil. It is a very tragic case. I advise you to be veeery careful."  
  
"Sandwich phobia.. How awful," Megan said to herself as she left 


End file.
